Hamartia
by Ten-Faced
Summary: Noun. The flaw in character which leads to the downfall of the protagonist in a tragedy. But downfalls do not come in one fatal swoop, they build up from a variety of factors into a devastating impact. The story of Grandis and its Transcendences, how Darmoor was driven insane, how Chronica was sealed, and how Aeona fled to a sanctuary only light could reach.
1. Darmoor - Life

**Hamartia**

_Noun: The flaw in character which leads to the downfall of the protagonist in a tragedy. From the Greek word _hamartanein_, meaning _to miss the mark, err.

Warning: This story is 99% fiction based on head canons and little canon hints.

* * *

Arc One: Darmoor, Transcendent of Life

* * *

The prince stood in the middle of his castle's throne room, stricken and pale. Around him the remains of the former inhabitants of the palace lay strewn around carelessly, their killers having not cared or respected them enough to treat them decently even after their life was abruptly taken away from them.

Kaiser couldn't even imagine what the young prince of the High Flora was going through. To see and realize that he was the last member of his family, his race, to come back after finally managing to convince a greedy and selfish council to help only to find that his family and loved ones were murdered, to know that their killers all belonged to a branch of your race and were family in the beginning of it all.

And at the same time an overwhelming amount of guilt nearly drowned Kaiser. If only he had managed to convince the council to agree to send help earlier. If only he could have simply led a rescue force somehow and managed to stop the bloodshed before it had happened. If only . . . .

The prince screamed. Once, a yell of hysteric denial, twice, a cry of desperation, before they all blended into one agonized shriek of grief and anguish.

Kaiser watched from the sideline, hesitant to approach the prince in his suffering. While he had been in support of ending the conflict between the High and Verdant Flora when Prince Gerald Darmoor had approached the Nova to plead for their help, he still felt responsible for this. For this terrible genocide, for this ugly bloodstain on Grandis and her land.

One of the healers began to cautiously approach the keening prince, a bottle of medicine in her hand. Kaiser recognized her to be an apt healer and silently thanked her for her kindness.

That was before the pillar of light consumed the prince and blinded him, knocking him unconscious.

* * *

When he regained consciousness, Kaiser found a healer looking into his eyes.

"Oh, good," the man said crisply, "you're awake. For a moment I thought that you were in a coma."

The man's crisp, business-like tone and neutral-coloured wings contrasted sharply with his healer's robe.

Kaiser sat up. It took three tries, which was quite embarrassing, but he managed to do so without needing another's help. "What about Prince Darmoor?" he asked hoarsely, wincing at the grating soreness in his throat.

"The prince?" the healer checked something off a clipboard. "He's achieved Transcendentalism, the lucky magic-loving Flora."

"Transcendentalism," Kaiser repeated, his head moving far too slowly for his liking. "He's a Transcendent of Grandis now."

"The Transcendent of Life, too," the healer nodded in satisfaction as he signed off whatever he'd been scrawling on. "Again, lucky magic-loving Flora."

"I'd hardly call him lucky," Kaiser said, but his voice was too quiet to be picked up by the healer who had already turned away.

* * *

The prince looked the same, and yet it was as if he had changed. He appeared the same, retaining the basic features of the High Flora, and he was easily recognizable as Gerald Darmoor, Prince of the High Flora even if he was the only non-Nova in Pantheon, but there was something different about him now, in the very air around him. His aura had changed into something completely unlike his original self.

It was like the first time Kaiser had looked into a mirror after realizing that he was the latest incarnation of the Guardian of Nova.

"Greetings, Kaiser," the prince said in a quiet voice. It wasn't his usual peaceful voice or the tone that he had used when he had desperately begged the council to help his people but something like resignation. It was empty. Devoid of meaning or passion.

Kaiser tried to not dwell on that. "Greetings, Prince Darmoor. Or is it Transcendent of Life now?"

He received a hollow, meaningless smile from the newly awakened Transcendent. "Prince Darmoor will do just fine. It was my title from birth, after all, and I am who I am even after my awakening. Even if," and there was a frown on his face now, "I suppose it is odd to call myself a prince when I have no people to rule over."

Uncomfortable, Kaiser decided to ignore the last part.

The prince continued on. "Kaiser, I have absolutely no wish to impose upon you and your people any longer than I must. However, I feel uncertain of myself, and there is a conflict within my heart that clouds my judgement on my path."

"By all means, my good man," Kaiser said, slightly relieved at the change in topic, "share with me your concerns. A heart burdened may be lightened if the burden is shared."

The prince's smile was a ghost of his former smiles from the days when his people were alive and he was a gentle-hearted man who sought peace, but it was a step in the right direction. "Thank you, kind sir, but that is not a burden I cannot share. It is one I, and only I, must carry. Although, given the circumstances, you would be the one who would understand my situation best."

Kaiser didn't get to ask about his statement.

"Tell me, Kaiser, my friend, what is your opinion on the thought of being born again and again for the sake of others?"

His thoughts? He didn't care that his life was a sacrifice for everyone else, as the prince implied. As long as the Nova existed, the Kaiser would always be reborn to protect them, and it was an honour to be the one to carry the Nova Essence. "It is the Kaiser's duty," he said softly, "and I am honoured to be the one to fulfil it."

It wasn't a satisfactory response, but the prince only nodded. "I see," he said. Then he stood up and wrapped the travelling cloak given to him by another Nova a bit more tightly. It was slightly too big, but it did its job. "Then this is goodbye for now, Kaiser."

Kaiser shook the hand that was offered to him. "Goodbye, Prince Darmoor."

Something, a glint of madness, fury, exasperation, desperation, insanity, _something_ flashed in the prince's eyes for a moment. But just for that moment before everything was hollow again. "Goodbye," the Transcendent said softly before he left.

Filled with unease Kaiser returned to his duties, trying to forget that unknown glint.

* * *

First of the many stories for an AU that I plan on writing.

EDIT: Uses same Transcendent form as Yggdrasil Wiegenlied now.


	2. Chronica - Time

**Hamartia**

_Noun: The flaw in character which leads to the downfall of the protagonist in a tragedy. From the Greek word _hamartanein_, meaning _to miss the mark, err.

Warning: This story is 99% fiction based on head canons and little canon hints. Please read explanation at bottom for better understanding/justification.

* * *

Arc Two: Chronica, Transcendent of Time

* * *

Within the large archive filled with huge volumes of books in neat rows across endless shelves a plain Nova woman with a face neither old nor young oversaw thousands of quill pens furiously writing in pages of books not yet filled.

The quills wrote the events happening in Grandis as they occurred that very moment. The books held information on everything that had gone on in this world. The woman with the timeless face was Chronica, Transcendent of Time and the mistress of the sanctuary.

Chronica's duty was to balance the time in Grandis. It was also her duty to oversee the process of the Chronicles of Grandis being recorded and written.

If she ever closed her eyes in slumber, this world would end. And so she would never fall into the arms of sleep.

* * *

"Prince Darmoor," she greeted the young prince sitting in the resting room of the sanctuary, created specifically for visitors such as him. She herself had no such need for such a room. "We meet at last. I confess, I had expected your visit earlier."

The young prince looked at her. His face was gaunt and drawn, dark circles pronounced under his eyes. Anyone would believe that the mortal transcendent in front of her was the one tasked with the duty to never sleep until the end of the world. "Lady Chronica," he bowed slightly, customs remaining from his life before achieving transcendentalism. "An honour."

The heavily armoured Nova standing behind him bowed to her as well, but he remained silent. She knew him from the records. Magnus, Traitor to the Nova and an Exile. Interesting company the newly awakened transcendent kept.

Chronica sat down in the seat directly facing the former prince of the High Flora. "What drives your mind and forces you to visit me, my brother?"

"I am in need of your assistance," he replied. "As I am sure you are aware, I have recently achieved transcendentalism and became the Transcendent of Life for Grandis."

Chronica gave a curt nod. His royal roots were showing here, right now, as he spoke. The former prince of the High Flora was building up to something. "And?"

"And I do not quite understand my purpose in life. What is the duty of a Transcendent, Lady Chronica?"

It was a question she had been expecting to hear from him. It was a question she had heard many times over her immortal life, almost all of them asked by the young prince's former incarnations as the Transcendent of Life searching for their role in this long, strange thing called life. It was one she had answered many times, always carefully, in hopes of avoiding events like the ones that had led to the rebirths of Kaiser.

"The duty of a Transcendent," she began, "is to represent a Paragon within our world, and balance what we stand for. I balance time, Aeona balances light, and now, you balance life on Grandis."

Her mortal counterpart nodded – it was obviously an answer he'd been expecting. "But how?" he persisted. "_How_ do we balance our powers?"

A mortal Transcendent of Life who had been born amongst the dragon-human hybrids had once asked her that very question, and then he had used his powers to give the Nova a guardian that would be reborn again and again as a mighty warrior. Chronica hadn't been able to stop that before due to the jurisdiction of authority. She hoped to prevent it now.

"We balance our powers with our existence," she stated, "and with our actions. Everything we do, everything that happens to us – they all lead to equilibrium in the end.

"However, that doesn't change the fact that the duty we have is a crucial one. As Transcendences, everything we do is a major change in the fabric of this world." She gestured towards the area where the quills recorded the Chronicles of Grandis. "Despite our powers, we are not gods. We must not fall to the sin of hubris or the mistaken thought of being able to do anything. It is best to look at the world on a grand scale and simply exist for the sake of restoring the balance of this world."

It was a confusing concept, one he had not understood completely in a few of his previous incarnations.

His current incarnation seemed to understand it now. "I see," he said.

But he wasn't done. "What is it you really came to me for, Prince Darmoor?" she asked, referring to him with the name and title that he currently preferred.

He maintained eye contact with her for some time – fifty-three seconds – before he smiled and broke the invisible tension by averting his gaze slightly. "It seems that I cannot fool you," he said.

"You are right. I do not come here just for the sake of seeking answers regarding my new status as a Transcendent. I also come here seeking assistance and an invaluable ally for my dream."

When she had checked his records, she had merely skimmed over the parts in the chronicles detailing the events that had happened around him. She hadn't bothered to read over the motives or emotional states. Now, staring into the broken and oddly shining eyes of the mortal, she wished she had.

"You are immortal, Chronica. You read about what happens in this world and know better than anyone else that so much suffering and tragedy could have been avoided if only differences amongst life didn't clash."

She chose not to answer that.

"Even with your stance, you cannot possibly mean to say that you are indifferent to everything that goes on in this world. Surely the thought that Grandis could be better has come up before."

Hidden in her sleeves, her fists clenched and unclenched. "What do you want?"

"What I want?" He stood up. The soft-spoken man was gone. In his stead, a raving man with an insane vision for the world had taken over the body of the prince. "I want life on this planet reset. I want a planet filled with one species, a species that will never split apart and hate those that sprang from the same roots as them enough to kill them all. I want a world where no conflict over race ever occurs."

Chronica rose from her seat to meet his eye on an equal level and not have him towering over her. "You are mistaking yourself to be a god," she began, but he didn't even seem to hear her.

"Life reset! No one will ever regard life as something not important! There will never be a needless loss for life again! No heartbreaks, Chronica! No flaws or wrongs! No devastation due to the murder of family and friends! Peace forever and ever!"

Darmoor was too engrossed in his vision. Warily, Chronica began to back away, only to halt in her attempt at escape when her feet hit something hard and metallic.

Behind her, the exiled warrior stood with a grin on his face. He had his sword out in his hands and his stance was one ready to launch into attack any moment.

Chronica faced Darmoor again. He had calmed down and recovered his serene appearance, but his eyes still held a glint that she recognized as unstable emotions running rampant. "I want," he said, voice soft again, hypnotic, convincing, "to see my vision for Grandis come true. But I need your help."

So that was it. "My help," she said, trying to find the best outcome for this all. This was a sanctuary, the one place she had never expected to be attacked in, and yet everything seemed to point to those events happening in the very near future.

"Yours. Imagine, time and life, hand in hand, resetting life and every mistake to create perfection. Is it not a wonderful vision?"

Chronica kept her voice neutral. "Peace in this world would be welcome," she agreed carefully. Behind her the Nova snorted and her fingers twitched. He was powerful. Powerful enough to take her on, and there was Darmoor to deal with, too.

"So you agree!" his smile grew. "Will you help me?"

Perhaps agreeing would be the better option. She could always escape, go back on her word, not deliver upon her promises, double-cross him.

But that wasn't her nature. The nature of time was to go on without care for what happened without stopping for anything. It wasn't her nature, or the nature of time, to interfere and create change to suit her wants.

"You are young, Prince Darmoor," she began in her most calming, soothing voice. "And compared to my age, you always will be. Eventually, as a mortal Transcendent, it is your destiny to die and be reborn again. I am immortal, my brother, and I have seen arrogance corrupt and destroy far too many times to agree that causing massive change on a whim is the right path to take. Believe me when I say that I, too, wish for all things good upon Grandis, but this is not the way to achieve it. Let your dream be simply a vision of yearning and extinguish your ambitions.

"Don't make changes with your plans based on such a small scale. I understand that you have gone through ordeals, terrible ones, and I would not wish them upon anyone, but you must grow past that now. Look at the world, change your viewpoint to that on the grander scale of things. You are a Transcendent, not a god, and even gods do not interfere like this. As Transcendences, our duty is to balance and represent the paragons, not to meddle with every little detail."

Darmoor's head was bowed, and she couldn't see his eyes. However, she was confident that the logic in her reasoning had sunk in and convinced the young Transcendent.

"Our duty is to balance," he whispered.

"Yes," she nodded.

"I see."

He snapped his fingers.

Chronica screamed. There was pain, white-hot pain that attacked her body and invaded her rationality of thought.

Black spots dancing in her vision, she took large breaths until her vision cleared. Now the pain made everything sharp like crystal and she saw golden ichor quickly soaking the plain cloth around her shoulder.

Behind her, the Nova was laughing. The sword in his hand was soaked with her ichor.

Darmoor lifted his head, a proud prince. "You stated before, Chronica, that any action a Transcendent took was one that would balance our powers. By that logic, my attempts to reset all life on Grandis will surely be one to help the forces of life achieve equilibrium."

With horror, she saw that the insanity in his eyes had only strengthened.

"I truly wish that I did not have to do this," his voice was apologetic. Polite. "But it seems that I have no choice. Since you will not aid my quest to reset Grandis, I am afraid that I must borrow your powers."

Healing her wound, Chronica staggered to her feet. "You are stating that you would steal my powers of time," she managed to sigh out aloud. Never had she felt more tired. Never had she faced such terrible odds.

"I am afraid that you leave me with no choice."

"Are you aware of the consequences your actions will bring?" she spat at him despite her near-resignation to her fate. "A Transcendent may be drawn to the powers of another, but they must never use the powers outside of their jurisdiction. I will let you off with a warning, Prince Darmoor. Leave now, and don't be foolish enough to try and manipulate time on top of life."

"She's brave," the Nova spoke for the first time. He added an unpleasant cackle after his words. "That won't be enough."

The prince shook his head gently. "I appreciate your kind concern, Lady Chronica," he had reverted back to his gentlemanly manner of speech, and she worried about his state of mind. "I truly do. But like you said, everything a Transcendent does will lead to equilibrium. From this, we can say that the setback of a Transcendent will also lead to equilibrium. You will still be balancing time, and I, with the aid of your powers, will balance life.

"Don't you see, Lady Chronica?" he raised his arms up to the sky, a visionary glowing with the wonders his dreams promised. "No matter what I do, whether I simply exist or make a revolutionary change in Grandis, I will balance life and fulfil my duty as a Transcendent. It is a perfect, win-win situation."

Her hands began to crackle with the power of time. Transcendences were on equal footing with each other. The Nova, however, majorly tipped the scales against her favour.

She had lost.

The sanctuary of time was soon filled with the sounds of Chronica's screams.

* * *

_There was no rest. There never was any rest. For her there would never be the gentle embrace of sleep or the soothing lullaby of dreams lighter than clouds. For her all that existed was an eternity of being conscious of everything that ever happened to her._

_For that she had envied her sister. Aeona, who could sleep and love others without having to see their time slip by, who could escape reality and dream of better days, who _had_ escaped to a sanctuary where nothing but light could reach her after tiring of all the world's affairs and states._

_For that she had envied her brother's reincarnations. He could start over, forget, have a reason to enjoy life and eventually go rest._

_For Chronica there was never an end to her duty. Only when the world ended, she'd receive her rest. But until then, she had to do her duty._

_And now, trapped within the enchanted pool filled with transparent poison, Chronica lay with her eyes wide open. She couldn't move, couldn't close her eyes, couldn't even scream._

_She was trapped in a living nightmare._

* * *

Got my info on Chronica through Korean blogs with KMS content. I have a hard time believing that a person named Chronica is male, and so I shall say that Chronica is female and blame bad translations (Korean pronoun stuff). So my hc Chronica lives in a sanctuary that also works as a library of sorts where everything about Grandis is being recorded. Unlike Rhinne, the world exists only when she is conscious, which means that she can never sleep or dream. Also unlike Rhinne, she's sealed within a pool, not ice.

Anyone else seen the Child of God illustrations?


	3. Aeona - Light

**Hamartia**

_Noun: The flaw in character which leads to the downfall of the protagonist in a tragedy. From the Greek word _hamartanein_, meaning _to miss the mark, err.

Warning: This story is 99% fiction based on head canons and little canon hints. Please read explanation at bottom for better understanding/justification.

* * *

Arc Three: Aeona, Transcendent of Light

* * *

Chronica, why are we immortal? Why do we, out of all the life forms within Grandis, have this curse and burden of living for all of eternity until the world itself ends? Why do we not have the luxury of rest given by death's visit like our brother? Why must we be the ones to suffer having to watch everyone around us slip away and stay to bitterly remember ghosts of happy times when our loved ones breathed and laughed with us?

Chronica, why do we have to be the ones with this duty? Our eternal existence is a curse, a dreadful burden, and yet our existence is our sole duty that we must fulfil. For what purpose have we been given this damned immortality? For what reasons must the Transcendent of Life himself die over and over again, yet Time and Light stay as they are until the end of the world? Is that fair? Does that make sense?

Chronica, why do you never use your powers over time to look into the future? Do you not want to see what fruit our actions of today will bear tomorrow? Does the question not eat away at you like corruption, nibbling away at your heart until you are driven insane from insatiable, unquenchable curiosity?

Chronica, my sister, your suffering is greater than mine. How do you bear being conscious through all of eternity without escape and manage to remain sane in mind? You are brave and strong, my sister, and I wish I could be more like you.

Chronica, I am tired. I don't wish to see any more of this. Let me fulfil my duty of balancing light without breaking my heart any longer.

Chronica, will you help me?

* * *

My hc Aeona asked for Chronica's help a very long time ago so she could build a sanctuary away from all the mortals she kept getting attached to.

Essentially my interpretation of all the Grandis Transcendences. Chronica – the older sister who tries to be responsible. Aeona – feels weak and flees in the end, trapping herself in a world of her own where she is in full control because she herself feels that she lacks it. Still, she shoulders _some _responsibility and allows light to enter her sanctuary so that when there's trouble she can help. As long as you're light, you can contact her. Darmoor – went crazy and decided to change the world.


End file.
